You’re a horseman. I don’t have to tell you what using him now would mean.”

Alec searched the captain’s face for understanding but found none; there was only a creeping coldness that was more frightening than anger would have been. He knew now why the captain had wanted him to stay. It had nothing to do with companionship; this man had no need for the company of others. It was only his horse the captain wanted.

The man stared steadily at Alec for a long while. Then he spoke and, surprisingly, his voice was kind. “Of course I understand, Alec. As you say, I am a professional horseman like yourself. We must have patience to get what we want, n’est-ce pas? Later, then?”

“Yes, later,” Alec repeated. “There’ll be no problem when the racing season is over.” For a moment he felt that he could cope with this man if they continued to talk of horses. He sought to keep to the subject.

“You will be without an act when she’s with foal,” he said.

The captain shrugged. “Oui,” he agreed. “But she has worked a long time. She is not young any more. I will use another horse or, perhaps, I will wait until her colt is old enough to train.”

“It might be a filly,” Alec suggested. “Then you’d have a mare to take her place.”

“I hope not. A stallion is easier, much easier than a mare to train for the ring.”

Alec shook his head. “I don’t follow you,” he said. “I can’t see a stallion being as tractable as your mare, especially one with the Black in him. He’d blow up in the ring.”

“No, Alec,” the captain said. “With a stallion there is just one fight, always at the beginning. When he learns that you are his master, it is over and the rest is easy. With most mares the fight is never over.”

Alec said, “I suppose it depends on the temperament of the stallion.”

“Of course, some fight longer than others, but in the end they all become obedient. They quickly learn to avoid punishment, while mares do not.”

“You can’t punish the Black,” Alec said. “You can ask and even be firm, but if you fight him, he’ll fight back.”

“That’s part of training, Alec,” the captain said, his eyes suddenly afire. “But you must win. There is no other way. A horse is the slave to man, not his master.”

Alec dropped his gaze, reminding himself once more that he must not antagonize this man. At times the captain seemed sensible, even friendly, but he was always dangerous. Alec warned himself not to forget it for a moment.

Suddenly the captain sprang to his feet, lightly, silently, and again Alec was reminded of a jungle cat as he watched him go over to the trunk beside the fireplace.

“Now I will show you more, Alec,” he called from across the room, “much more.” He removed the thick folder and returned to the table.

Sitting down again, he pulled out all the papers in the folder and spread them across the table for Alec to see.